


The reflection of you is the only truth I need

by Chibiness87



Category: A Discovery of Witches (TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode 1.06, Episode Tag, F/M, Possessive Matthew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-14 03:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16485470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chibiness87/pseuds/Chibiness87
Summary: Who is she?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There’s a bit in 1.07 that rankles me. So let’s call this a prelude to that.

**The reflection of you is the only truth I need** , by **chibiness87**  
Rating: T  
Season/Spoilers: 1.06  
Disclaimer: Not mine

Summary: Who is she?

* * *

 

She looks at herself in the mirror surrounded by the three vampires, horror dawning. Spellbound. It explains so much, while answering so little. Because what must she have done to deserve that punishment at such a young age as to not understand what was being done to her? To not even _remember_ it being done to her? Her magic has been so little and far between before her most recent return to Oxford and Ashmole, before Matthew, she can’t recall being able to use it with any sense of proficiency. But now, it appears at one time she did. At one point, she was someone to fear. At one point, she harmed. She must have, the punishment of spellbinding reserved for witches committing only the biggest of crimes. How long has she been like this? What is she capable of, now her strings have been let loose? What monster has Satu brought forth?

She can feel the power in her blood now, can feel the humming and thrumming of her pulse, her heart. Water and wind and everything else she has yet to establish. **_Every_** _genetic marker_ , Matthew had said, and the thought now terrifies her where once it thrilled. Before, when it felt like her magic was slowly waking up, she had just about been able to come to terms with each new power before another showed its face. But now? Now, it feels as if an alarm has gone off in her ear, a claxon setting her magic alight.

A shuffle on the stone brings her attention back to the present with a sharp focus, and her wild eyes meet Matthew’s concerned ones. _Good_ , she thinks. He should be concerned. Should be worried. Should be scared and horrified and _fear_ her. He should fear her, something she never thought she would say, and the thought along makes her heart ache.

“Diana…” His voice heralds a hint of something she can’t quite place. It’s almost like his warning tone, the one he used that night by the canal when they were still all but strangers, vampire to witch, predator to prey; but now it’s underpinned with something different. Something like concern. “Please, mon cœur, try to calm down.”

It’s not just concern, she realises. It’s more. Something like worry. But for her, not of her. Looking around the room, she suddenly sees why. Unnoticed before, but impossible to ignore now, she realises the curtains of the window are fluttering, the candles flickering in a breeze. But the window is closed, and the door to the left of her remains steady in its frame.

 She feels it then, the tempest within her, licking at her blood, her fingers, her soul, demanding to be let out. It’s like she’s back in the Bodleian, facing witches who want to question her, harm her, only worse. Because then, Matthew had been able to save her. Then, Matthew had been able to calm her, had been able to makes his way through, had been able to shelter her, let her breathe. In a roomful of witches, it was with a vampire that she felt the safest, and really, how twisted is that? But it is Matthew who is her target of her storm now. It is Matthew she sends the wind towards, making his hair ruffle.

“Don’t.” Her voice is weak, control hanging by a thread, and Ysabeau and Marthe both let out a curse and a gasp when another breath of air passes out of her and towards them, pushing them towards the door. The mirror gives a rattle in its frame. Matthew himself remains silent, his eyes unfaltering.

She expects them all to leave then, and almost lets out a cry when the female vampires do just that. Her eyes close, waiting for the scrape of leather on stone signifying Matthew’s retreat, but instead there is only silence. Carefully, cautiously, she opens her eyes, and is once again met by his steady gaze. And it is only now, with eyes meeting, that he take a step. Letting her see his every move, like he knows how she will react if taken by surprise. But it not towards the door he moves, like she expected. Hoped? Instead, he takes a step towards her, mindless of the danger she is. The tempest in her rages, a gust pushing at him, wanting, needing him to stay back.

“Diana.” Again, his voice is concerned. But the hint of warning has gone, softened around the edges into calm. He takes another step, pushing back against the wind she sends his way.

“Don’t,” she says again, pain and anguish colouring her voice. He quirks and eyebrow, almost like he is assessing her. Coming to some kind of decision, he keeps his gaze on hers as he takes yet another deliberate step towards her, all hint of hesitation gone. She can feel the tendrils of power in her fingertips, making the air crackle. “Don’t. Stay back.” Another gust of air in his direction, curtains behind him flapping wildly on the rail now. Voice quivering, she implores him. “Stay away.”

But he just shakes his head. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Matthew, please.” A tear breaks free, a sob catching in her voice. “I don’t want to hurt you!”

With a final gust, she pushes him to the wall, pinning him in place. She can see him fight, can see the predator within coming forth, demanding to be set free, even as she hurries to the door. Somewhere deep down, she knows she is making a mistake. Knows he will chase her. But right now she’s too caught up in the thought of getting as far from him as possible to save him from her to think clearly.

“Diana.” His voice has turned low, and she can sense his pain even as he continues to fight her hold.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She chances one final glance in his direction, takes in the face of the man she adores. “I love you.”

“Don’t…” His voice is more pained cry than anything, and it makes another tear break free.

Rushing past Ysabeau and Marthe on the stairs, she doesn’t stop when they both call her name. Her mind flashes back to the look on Matthew’s face when she pinned him to the wall, the hurt and betrayal in his eyes.

With a muffled sob, she flees.

* * *

TBC

 


	2. Chapter 2

**The reflection of you is the only truth I need,** by **chibiness87  
Chapter 2  
Rating: T  
Season/Spoilers: ** Through 1.06 ****  
Disclaimer: not mine

Diana runs.

She runs and she runs and she _runs_. Mindless of the pain in her back, the ache of her muscles. Mindless, too, of the danger she has put herself in. The challenge she has unwittingly issued. Her only thought is to get as far away from Matthew and Sept-Tours as she can. To flee. To escape. Get as far away as fast as she can, distance the only way she can be sure of his safety. From her. From all that she is. All that she could be. A threat. A danger. For the first time she understands why he fled to Oxford, fled from her. Her magic feels like a tidal wave beneath her skin, its power flooding her, making her blood sing so loudly even she can hear it. But even as she continues to put one foot in front of the other, her feet remain firmly on the ground.

Just like before, she is helpless. A witch with insurmountable power, but no control. She wants to fly but she feels drained from the effort of keeping Matthew pinned to the wall for as long as she had. Is it any wonder she was spellbound? Gasping for breath, she comes to a stop in the middle of the path, heart aching with remorse at the memory of his face as she left him there, struggling against her will. The hurt. The betrayal. Goddess, what has she done?

A faint breeze behind her has her turning, looking over her shoulder, sudden wariness filling her, but there is nothing there. Turning back, she stifles a gasp. Matthew stands before her, dark and powerful, anger seeping out of him in dangerous waves. Where blue-green eyes, tinged with a bit of grey, normally reside, there are only deep pools of black. His stance is straighter than normal, muscles twitching. At his side, his hands are clenched into tight fists, knuckles white against his pale skin. His jaw is clenched, teeth bared, a low, feral growl on the air between them.

This, then, is the vampire he tries so hard to keep from her. His true nature, laid bare for all to see. She takes a step back, sees his eyes narrow in response. Every instinct tells her to run, her magic racing to her fingertips in readiness, but before she can move his arms come up, holding her firm.

“No.” His voice is a rasp, his grip true. The shake of his head is small, but determined. “No.”

She looks down to where his hands hold her arms, takes in the tremble of his arms as he forces himself not to hurt her. Because he could, she realises suddenly. She can see the war going on in his mind. The man battling the beast, head and heart fighting for dominance. Predator and protector. He could hurt her in a second if he lost himself, if he thought he had to. He had said as much to her the night they first had dinner, the night she had first dared to kiss him.

She hadn’t understood what he meant, then. Hadn’t understood the weight of the questions she was asking, the danger. She had simply been curious, her trust of him instinctual. She trusts him now, still, even faced with him like this, after doing the one thing he had warned her never to do. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her, she realises with sudden clarity, that night by the boathouse, even as every instinct demanded he should.

Finally, she understands how he could understand her emerging power so well. _It wants to get out_ , he had said, and _oh_ , oh _Matthew_ , what battles you must face. Every day, every moment. His greatest fear mirrors her own, and at the realisation she finds something settle within her. The desire to flee dissipates, her mind clearing. _We are bound together_ , she had told him, and she knows it remains true. Knows they are stronger together. Her aunts, the congregation, even Matthew himself couldn’t convince her to stay away; she’ll be damned if her own fear is the thing to win at tearing them apart.

 “Okay.” She raises her hands, a show of surrender, as far as his current hold on her will allow. She gives a small nod of acquiesce. “Okay.”

She forces herself to meet his gaze, feels the chill of his gaze speak to the fire in her soul, calming her further. Her heartbeat slows, the energy at her fingertips recedes, and she waits for him to make the next move. His hold loosens slightly, just enough for her to be able to reach up to his jaw. She lets her thumb rest on his lower lip for a moment, a sign of trust between them. His lips purse in response, a whisper of a kiss to the pad, before his arms slip lower, pulling her tighter to him.

He dips his head, nose brushing behind her ear for a second, before he buries his head in the juncture between her shoulder and neck. Just for a second she tenses, worried he may ham her after all, but when he does nothing more than breathe in her scent she forces herself to relax. She can feel his breath against her pulse, and blinks hard against sudden tears when his lips land over the thrum for a long second. Expecting teeth, she can only gasp when his tongue traces over her carotid, making her blood pound that much louder.

“Don’t do that again.” His voice is low, deep timbre speaking to something low and deep in her gut, and she gasps. Moans. Nods against him, even as she shifts slightly to rest her head on his chest, listening to the thrum of his heart. It seems faster than normal, and she leans back slightly to meet his gaze, a question on her tongue.

His mouth swoops down before she can speak, however, hard and fast, lips and tongue and teeth, nibbling and nipping and taking and tasting, fitting against her so perfectly she forgets to breathe for a moment. He breaks away with a growl, fire and desire and something more, something like possession in his gaze. “Dieu, Diana. Don’t ever do that to me again.” Burrowing his head in her neck again, his last confession comes out more as a breath than anything else. “I couldn’t bear to lose you too.”

 _That was before you knew I was dangerous_ , she doesn’t say. “This isn't exactly what you signed up for,” she sighs instead, ducking out of his embrace, remorse colouring her tone.

He huffs a sigh, catching her arm before she can take a step. “This is exactly what I signed up for.”

She looks away. Looks down. Stares at her hands for a moment. The power of her magic sings out to her again, and she watches as a spark flicks between her fingers. Breaking his hold, she lifts her hand to show him her latest trick. “I still don’t know what’s wrong with me. Spellbinding… that’s not exactly something you do on a whim.”

He rolls his eyes. “There is nothing wrong with you.” When she goes to refute him again, he interrupts her before she can do more than draw breath. “I saw what I needed to know the moment we met.” Slowly, he takes her hand in his, watches the sparks flash. Slipping his own fingers between her own, she feels the power settle, energy dissipating. Lifting her hand, he places a kiss to her knuckle, reminding her of knights of old. “I knew we were inevitable the moment I ran away from you and it felt like my heart was being ripped out.” He places another kiss, this time on her inner wrist, an echo of a previous time. “It’s why I came back.” Looking up, he catches her eyes, and this time she cannot bring herself to look away from the intensity. “This. You. Everything.” He brings their still clasped hands into view. “We are as one, if you recall, as good as married under vampire lore, and I for one plan to honour that vow.”

Pulling back slightly, she stares at him, this mysterious, complex man she has seemingly sworn her life to. This man her heart has chosen when all rules forbade it. Sees more than the vampire, more than the scientist. Looks at him and sees the man he must have been, all those years ago. The human, wanting nothing more than to love and be loved. Wanting to be enough of a reason to stay. She brings her free hand up so it rests against his chest, waiting for the slow thump of his heart. When it comes, she presses her lips against it, wonder in her gaze and her own heart giving an echoing thump. “Oh.”

“So, what do you say? Will you let us face this thing together, no matter where it may lead?”

She looks at him, feeling her power settle over her like a shield. Like a blanket. “I think we need to go to Maddison.” His gaze doesn’t stray from hers, even as she feels her resolve thicken the air around them. With a glint in her eye, she seems Matthew smile in response.

“My aunts have a lot to answer for.”

* * *

End

 


End file.
